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27.12.07

Hello all, hope you've had a WONDERFUL Christmas and that you have some great plans to bring in the New Year!

We have a new schedule for you from January. You will have a different Total-e-Bound author each day. Each author in the list below will keep the same date each month, so you can be sure to come along and catch up with your fave authors to see what they are up to and read their blog posts.

We’ll also be giving a fabulous signed and framed picture of the Fallen Angels Cover, with a personal message from the authors.

For one lucky winner there is also a beautiful winter charm bracelet

We also have a fab little book to give away. It's 163 pages of "enticing ideas for heating up your next bath for two! Discover erotic edibles, sensuous scents and how to seduce while you soak!" It's the size of a bar of soap but packed full of great ideas!

How to enter

Simply join the TEB NEWS at http://news.total-e-bound.com/, look for the Season Seductions Winter Competition Details, and follow the instructions!

17.12.07

Banished from Heaven as punishment for his sins, Taliesin has walked among humans for thousands of years. He's damned sick of it. Death would be preferable to the cultural bankruptcy of the twenty-first century, but what's a cursed immortal to do? It's not like he can kill himself.

Dr. Emerson Matthews has no clue what to do with the enigmatic, gorgeous man who has landed in the psych ward at the hospital where she works. Well, she knows what she wants to do, but it's unethical and likely illegal. Especially since he seems to be out of his mind. Why else would he claim to be a fallen angel?

Hell bent on seduction, Taliesin tempts Emerson, luring her tightly guarded passion to the surface and introduces her to sensual delights she's never dreamed of. As she learns more about the mysterious man in her care, she begins to question her own sanity as his claims of Divine origin seem more plausible with each passing moment.

Emerson Matthews watched her patient through the two-way mirror, and he gazed right back. Obviously, he knew he was being observed. Stretching out his long legs he leaned back in the chair and stared as if he could bore a hole through the glass. He shoved his shoulder-length hair from his face in irritation—chestnut coloured waves she itched to drag her fingers through. At this distance it was impossible to discern the colour of his eyes, but she had no trouble making out his high cheekbones and gorgeous mouth.

It was impossible to look at him and not imagine how his lips would feel against hers. He pushed up the sleeves of his knit shirt to reveal beautifully sculpted forearms. With his broad chest, she couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like beneath his clothes. She’d bet his legs and ass were as tightly muscled as his arms.

She sighed. Getting worked up over a patient was number one on the no-no list for therapists everywhere. She’d clearly gone too long without sex and it was affecting her work. The slightly less rational part of her brain insisted that she was merely experiencing the logical response to being confronted with the single most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. No matter what he looked like, she needed to get her mind out of his pants and help him. Focus, Emerson. Focus.

She reread the scant information on his chart. Having attempted suicide by train, Taliesin No-Last-Name was brought into St. Mary’s Psychiatric Facility late last night by the local sheriff’s department. The train operator insisted that he’d hit the man, but the guy didn’t have a scratch on him. Even his clothes were fine. He’d complained of a headache, but that was it. He’d also initially demanded—loudly—to leave. But that wasn’t going to happen, not until he’d been thoroughly evaluated. Adjusting her glasses, she turned the knob and opened the door.

The man rose to his feet with a loose-limbed grace and offered her his hand as he read her name tag. “Dr. Matthews. I’m assuming it’s too much to hope that you’ve come to release me.”

“Why don’t we talk a bit first?” Trying to place his slight accent, she gestured to the chair behind him as she sank into the one opposite him. He didn’t bother to hide his annoyance as he sat and stared at her while she straightened the forms on her clipboard. His eyes were grey. Definitely grey. God, he was gorgeous. Focus.

“Despite what it likely says in your file, I wasn’t attempting suicide.”

She glanced at the chart. “I’m not sure how else to interpret standing in front of an oncoming train.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I was pushed.”

“By whom?”

He shifted uneasily. “A friend.”

“Some friend,” she muttered.

His lips curved in a bone-melting grin. “Yeah. He can be a real bastard.”

Emerson stared at him trying to remember where she’d been going with that line of questioning.

Taliesin tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. “It wouldn’t. My friend is rarely visible to humans.”

Rarely visible to humans. It was going to be a long night.

Emerson glanced out the window behind him and watched as huge fluffy snowflakes drifted to the ground. She might as well get comfortable. It wasn’t like she had anywhere to go—besides, she’d volunteered for the three weeks prior to Christmas, just so she could get time off over the holidays to spend with her family.

She studied the man across from her. He looked completely lucid, but his comments so far belied that. “Let’s start with a history,”

she said turning to a fresh intake sheet. “Name?”

He shifted in his chair and she tried not to admire the way the worn fabric of his jeans encased his legs. “Taliesin.”

“Last name?”

“I don’t have one.”

Emerson tried not to frown. “What about your parents? What’s their surname?”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, a lock of hair partially covering his eye. “I don’t have parents in the strictest sense of the word.”

Emerson fought the urge to brush his hair aside and see if it was as soft as it looked. “You’re an orphan?” she asked. Perhaps she’d follow in Angelina Jolie’s footsteps and adopt him.... Okay, this was inexcusable. She was a professional, for God’s sake. Obviously she needed to get laid and quickly. This inability to focus was interfering with her job.

“Not exactly.” He stood and walked to the window.

She tried not to groan. His ass was as perfect as she’d imagined it would be. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Age?”

“Not sure.”

She studied his reflection in the window pane. If she had to guess, she’d say late twenties to early thirties. Time for a different tack. “I’ve noticed you’ve got a bit of an accent. Where are you from?”

“Lots of different places.” His lips curved in a sad smile as he stared out the window. “But I spent my formative years in Wales.”

That was an interesting coincidence. Her grandmother was from Wales. Of course, her sister, Beckett, would tell her there were no such things as coincidences, but Emerson didn’t buy into it. There were no mystical forces guiding hers or anyone else’s life. If God existed, and that was a huge if, as far as she was concerned, He sure as hell didn’t care about any of the people he’d supposedly created. If He did, He’d actually bother to answer prayers.

The pain of loss clogged her throat, but she pushed it away and stood, nearly colliding with the man she was supposed to be evaluating. Taliesin placed his hand under her elbow to steady her.

“Are you all right?” he asked, concern darkening his eyes.

The warmth of his body seeped through her blouse, and she wanted nothing more than to sink into him and forget. He stared into her eyes as if he could find the answers to the mysteries of the universe.

In all eternity Raphian never desired anyone more than Lissa Chase. As her guardian angel, he couldn’t touch her. Or shouldn’t have. Taunted by demons, he succumbed. One forbidden night in Lissa’s arms was everything he’d imagined it would be. And it condemned him, casting him to earth.

Lissa is stunned when the stranger from last night’s erotic dreams walks into her life to pick up where the dreams had left off. When she discovers last night was reality, she’s thrust into a battle of good and evil.

While she decides if she can allow Raphian into her life, every demon in the vicinity is after the fallen angel to bring him fully to their side—even if it means using the woman he loves as bait.

Excerpt:

After all this time, he’d fallen prey to his baser desires and been banished.

Now of all times. When the portal between good and evil was thinned by thesolstice.Raphian watched the object of his lust as she sent her young charges ontothe large yellow busses lining the drive in front of the school where she taught.She smiled at the children, waving as fat snowflakes swirled around her. A gustof wind ruffled her hair into a golden halo and he swallowed hard as his desireknotted through him again. He couldn’t escape it even for a moment—eventhough it had cost him everything he was.

She looked more angelic than he ever had. She shivered, reminding him itwas cold as late December days were wont to be. He’d never experienced coldbefore today. Now the bitter air stabbed at his skin, reddening the exposed areasand making his bones ache. So this was cold… His wings had always kept itfrom him before as he’d performed his duties on earth.

Now, he had no duties.

He had no wings…

He’d succumbed to human desires and dared to want her. Charged toprotect her, he’d betrayed his position. He’d lain with her during a dream, feltthe soft folds of her womanhood embracing his manhood as he plunged withinher. Bliss. Hours of incomprehensible bliss. He’d stepped from her sweetembrace straight to judgment.

There was no denying his action. His punishment was etched in the stonesmarking the kingdom. He’d broken the law given to the angels. Fallen.

The cold biting through him amplified the mark of his failure as heshuddered. Each jarring quiver pulled at his back. Reminding him. He was anangel no more. Angels had wings. He had pain.

Would it ever cease? Or would he forever feel the agony where the fierysword had shorn away his wings? Long red wounds ran from shoulder to waist,seared closed by the flame.

Because he’d dared to want her.

For years, he’d protected her. Now, he’d protect her one last night. Todaymight be his first and last as a mortal. Tonight as the portal thinned for thewinter solstice, the demons would break free. Every demon in the vicinity wouldbe after one man—the former angel they wanted to bring to their side. He couldonce again have power and immortality. They’d offer him kingdoms and wealth.

They’d even offer him the woman.

He could have everything, but at what price? With them, he’d never againknow peace or love. Only hatred so deep his bones would ache worse than theydid in this wretched cold. His chances for survival were slim. It mattered little.He may have fallen, but he wasn’t evil. Death and an eternity in limbo werepreferable to joining their ranks.

Raphian’s being stirred as the universe called him to protect. Even withoutwings, that hadn’t changed. The demons would attempt to use her against him.They’d threaten her life. And her soul. From sunset to sunrise, they’d battle withevery foul means at their disposal.

A wingless angel and a mortal woman against a horde? There was no wayeither of them would survive the siege unless they were together. And soon. Thedays were short and the sun already hung low in the sky. Every minute countedas the night drew close. The woman didn’t know him, yet she had to trust himbefore the looming darkness blotted the tiny spark of hope from his spirit.With a silent prayer to one who wouldn’t listen, he stepped forward.

Book one in The Watchers Series

Heavenly bad boys...these aren’t the angels they taught you about in Sunday School!

Gadriel is a Watcher—and a Fallen Angel. The Angel of War. Cast out of Heaven for hating humans, and for failing to bow before them, he’s come to Earth to enact his vengeance upon his brothers, and an unsuspecting mortal. When a human woman enters his life, events are set in motion that neither of them can stop.

For, unknown to the humans, there is a war in Heaven, a war between the faithful and the fallen that has been locked in stalemate for centuries. Gadriel alone has the power to change the tides—for either side. But does he want it? Can his desire for this human run deeper than physical lust, or has he truly fallen beyond redemption?

Excerpt:

At last, he’d found her.

This was the woman’s apartment. He felt her, smelt the disease that waseating away at her. This was the one—this human female—who they sought toprotect. She was part of a greater plan, a plan he was not yet privy to. But hewould discover it, and when he did, he would enact his vengeance upon thosewhom he had once called brothers.

His boots made no noise on the carpeted floor as he made his way to thefemale’s bedroom. Despite the fact it was only early evening, she would be in herroom, able to do little more than sleep and eat while waiting for the Angel ofDeath to come and claim her.

Humans…they were so weak, so fallible. How was it possible that legionsof his kind had fallen for the pleasures of human flesh? He hated humans andthe power they’d been given. Despised how they had been raised above him andhis kind. How could the creator ask them to bow before such creatures? Howcould He love them—the humans—more than him and his brothers?

Before the humans, He had loved them best. Now, he and his kind hadbeen replaced. Discarded and tossed aside; forced to protect and guide and reverethe creatures He had made out of clay.

What made the humans so damn special—and this one in particular? Shewas dying. She could not be a part of God’s plan to oust the Fallen from Heavenand end the war—the war between the faithful and the fallen—that had beenlocked for centuries in a stalemate.

But, if she was useless to either side—faithful or fallen—why had Sarielcome to Earth and searched her out? No, there was a reason that Sariel, a devoutand dutiful angel, had been sent to seek out this particular female.

The bedroom door was already ajar. He shoved it open with the tip of hisboot, pausing on the threshold, his gaze taking in everything, from the walls thatwere bathed orange from the reflection of the setting sun to the white curtainsthat billowed and snapped in the wind as it blew through the opened window.

Outside, the distant sounds of police sirens and gun fire echoed amongst the tallbuildings. Shouts and screams and more gunfire rippled through the eveningskies.

The sun had not even set, and already the mortals were killing each other.“Mary,” he called, stepping deeper into the room. When there was no reply,he snarled and tore the comforter from the bed. She was not cowering beneath it.Looking about the room, he sniffed at the air, smelling beyond the diseasethat was wracking her body, to the scent of her floral perfume. Perfume that hadbeen sprayed not long ago.

She was not there. Fuck. Had Sariel already beaten him to the female? Thephone rang and his head snapped in the direction of the nightstand as he glaredat the answering machine with its red blinking light. On the fourth ring themachine picked up and a soft, frail voice spoke in the darkness.

“Hi, you’ve reached Mary Murphy, leave a message at the sound of thebeep, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

The machine beeped and a breath whispered across the speaker. No voiceor words came, only the soft, steady rhythm of air being drawn in and out. Sariel.The machine buzzed and the line went dead. He walked over to it andpicked up the black square box, examining it from all angles. Hitting a button, hesmiled in triumph when a robotic voice stated flatly, ‘you have three newmessages. First message, Thursday; 6:10 pm.’

“Hi Mary, it’s Jane from Dr. Archer’s office. We just got the results of yourlast MRI. Dr. Archer asked me to call you to set up an appointment to talk abouttreatments. Call me back as soon as you get this message.”

He pressed a circular button and heard, ‘message has been deleted’. MaryMurphy wasn’t going to need that appointment.

“Message Two.”

“Hey, Mary, it’s Nadira. Where are you? I’ve been trying to call you all day.I thought we could meet at Langdon Park. You know, take a stroll along thepaths. I’ll meet you there at eight, and we’ll watch the sun set. Meet me at myfavourite statue and I’ll buy you a cup of tea. Be there, Mary.”

He glared at the machine. The woman’s voice made his nerves taut. Therewas something about the hypnotic quality of her voice. He played the messageagain, not because he didn’t already have the information memorised, butbecause he wanted to hear the woman’s voice.

14.12.07

My latest completed work is a book about phone sex.I talked about it alot on my blog because I had so much fun writing it.It ended up funny and cute and endearing and wonderful.Of course.I was ready to be congratulated from my 10's of fans for completing yet another work in so short a time frame.But what I was not prepared for was being inundated with emails from smut writing women who confessed that they cannot talk dirty to their partners.

What?Really?We write these words a thousand times a month.Our characters have mouths like sailors.Our minds are filthy and our fingers tired. (From typing!Don't dip your heads into the gutter yet, we haven't even started the lesson.)And yet, to open your mouths and let the words pour out causes you to freeze in your tracks.Well never fear my darlings, Dakota is here to help.

I am a master of talking dirty.I think it comes from working in male dominated environments my entire working career.One of my best friends is ACTUALLY a sailor and he has taught me some of my favorite words.Some of them aren't even in English.Cuss words have always fallen from my lips like rain from the heavens.Though I have to admit there was a time when I was bashful about talking in bed too.

The following tips are for reference only.They were designed to make you feel more comfortable talking with your partner during sexy time.If they do not work, then you are doing them wrong.No, just kidding.I believe there are some of you who will find that you are just to proper to let a good 'cock' slip from your lips.

Double entendre - See above.If you start making inappropriate jokes outside of the bedroom, you can grow accustomed to saying the words in front of others.

Try practicing in the mirror. - Next time you have the house to yourself, go into your bathroom, lock the door if it helps you relax, then look at yourself in the mirror.Start talking.First, just say the words.The F's, the C's, the P's, jump right in with the biggies.Then, try to string them into sentences.Tell your reflection what you would like your partner to do to you, or for you. And vice versa.You may feel silly, but you need to get used to voicing the words.

Talk to your partner outside of the bedroom. - Don't worry, I don't mean that you have to say the words a few times in the mirror then go all filthy on your honey at the dinner table.I mean tell them what you are interested in trying.They will be supportive of your efforts because they love you and want you to be happy.

Ask your partner to talk to you. - Hearing your darling whisper (or yell) sexy words to you will do wonders for loosening your tongue, and your inhibitions in general.And you get the added bonus of knowing what level of filth they are comfortable with.(This particular is tip was incredibly helpful to me because my fear of talking dirty was more about his reaction than actually saying the words out loud.)

Start simple. - When you think you might be ready to talk to them, start slow.Begin with a soft 'oh yeah.''That feels nice.' Or, 'I love how you do that.'You don't have to jump right in to the demanding and the dirty talk.Just get yourself used to actually speaking during the act.

Are you ready?Are you excited?Is your mouth watering or is it dry as the Sahara?Are you trembling in anticipation, or is that gut wrenching fear?Don't worry, you'll do great.You will feel liberated and free and your partner will appreciate all of your efforts to open up and tell them exactly how to please you.

And remember, if all of the above steps fail miserably, you can always do what I did to be able to talk dirty to Mr. Rebel for the first time.Get piss drunk.

10.12.07

With another man in the mix, what will it mean to never again have a normal marriage?

Greg and Sarah Perry have a solid marriage. They’re the envy of their friends. When Greg, a lawyer by day, suggests adding other partners to the mix, Sarah, a conservative teacher, is reluctant. However, she does find the thought intriguing. While at her sister’s Christmas wedding reception in the ballroom of a hotel, she lets her intrigue take charge.

It leads her straight to Peter Lawson, a sensual man well versed in the ménage lifestyle. Can she reconcile her feelings for Peter with her relationship to Greg? And what will it do to her marriage?

Excerpt!

“So? What do you think?” he asked as if this wasn’t the first time it had been discussed. Sarah Perry was well aware of the fact that as a buttoned-up lawyer at work for the greater Massachusetts Municipal Governing body, Greg often let loose in the bedroom. She’d come to expect mind-blowing sex from him after a hard day. New ideas to rev up their playtime were sparking in his mind all the time. Still, she balked at the idea of adding more partners to the mix.

Sarah sighed, “I just don’t know, Greg. Can you let the idea sit with me for awhile?”

Her husband rolled her into his arms. She snuggled her face against his chest, her mind whirring. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t given hints or that she hadn’t thought about it herself secretly, but actually speaking of it out loud was an entirely different matter. She was a teacher. Were teachers supposed to think this way? Still, the idea was inviting.

“Sure hon. Remember, we both have to be sure. We won’t do it otherwise. We’ll wait until it’s right for both of us, if we try it at all.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I just have to think.”

He rubbed her arms and then down the length of her back. Sarah felt safe with the warmth of his solid chest against her cheek.

“We have a trust that’s not so common, Sarah. Don’t we? It would just be for fun, nothing else.”

She looked up at him. His dark, brown eyes sparkled when they looked at her. “Of course I trust you and I know it wouldn’t mean anything, but becoming swingers is a big step in our lives. I’m just asking for a little time for the idea to congeal in my thoughts.”

Quite honestly, the idea excited her. The thought of having another man stimulated her, aroused her, but the thought of Greg with another woman was disturbing to say the least.

In Sarah’s mind, ten years of marriage solidified them as a couple stronger than most. She’d married Greg young, in her early twenties, and then watched as their friends married, had children, divorced, found another. It seemed a never-ending cycle for some of them. Sarah cherished the foundation she had with Greg that everyone else strived for.

They didn’t have children, but not for lack of trying. Jaded by two miscarriages, Sarah wasn’t willing to go through that again. It would be some time before she felt ready to try another time. Endlessly patient and sympathetic, Greg put no pressure on her.

The thought of sharing their love for each other with another couple or another person was intriguing. Despite that, there were still issues to work through.

“C’mon Greg.” She patted his chest the dark curls dusting his muscular chest. “We have to get up.”

“The wedding’s not for another hour,” he groaned, flopping onto his back. “Who gets married in the winter anyway?”

“Well, that’s about how long it’s going to take me to get ready so I’m getting up. And lots of people do.”

Sarah slipped from their bed. Once out from under the duvet and away from Greg’s warmth, she shivered. Reaching for her pink robe hanging on the brass hook behind the door, she glanced at Greg. He propped himself up on his elbow, watching her intently, his lips curved into a grin.

She turned to face him, drawing the tie of her robe tightly around her waist. She sighed loudly. “I don’t have time, Greg.”

He looked so enticing, despite the fact that he’d just satisfied her. Sarah found it hard to imagine being attracted to anyone as much as she was to her husband.

The ivory sheet settled around his waist. Dark chest hair followed the ridges of his muscles before it tapered beneath his sternum and disappeared below the sheet. Following the trail of hair with her gaze, she came to the bulge beneath the sheet. He was always ready for her, no matter the time of day or the fact that they’d already done it. He could make her come as many times as she wanted.

Greg grinned wickedly. Sarah loved his arrogance that came with his knowing she couldn’t resist him. He folded back the duvet, welcoming her back to bed. His shaft rose from between his thighs, swelling in her sight.

Monica’s friend Jules, author of bestselling 'Telling Lust from Love', sends her a Christmas gift from Fantasies Unlimited—a menu of treats to be followed by a Fantasy Man, Nick, to perform them. When she answers a knock at the door to find the sexiest guy she’s ever seen, she assumes it's him even though he wears a tool belt and carries a toolbox. He looks like he’s just stepped off the page of a Playgirl calendar and it never occurs to her that he might really be a carpenter.

Rick knows it's wrong not to set her straight, but since she's set to do who-knows-what with a stranger, why not him? He hasn’t had any sexual desire since he found his fiancée in bed with his best friend, and this is the perfect chance to see if he can perform.

He certainly can, and Monica and her Fantasy Man enjoy incredible sex until she learns the truth.

But can they get past the deception and turn lust into love?

Excerpt!

Monica fingered the long red envelope she’d received in the mail. The silver return address label said Fantasies Unlimited. Smiling, she edged her fingernail under the heart-shaped seal that held the flap. This had to be the doing of her unpredictable friend, Julie. The colour of the envelope might indicate it was a Christmas card but it was obviously more than that—perhaps a gift certificate or some kind of present. Julie sent the most outrageous and delightful surprises imaginable, and Monica couldn’t wait to see this one.

Since writing a bestselling guidebook for singles, Telling Love From Lust, Julie loved spending her new wealth on gifts for her former college roommate and other close friends.

Extracting a hot pink card with black hearts and silver lettering, Monica sank down on her new living room couch and fanned herself with it, half-afraid to see what it was and yet twitching with anticipation.

Taking a deep breath, she took a good look and saw that it was a menu—of treats you could request from your…Fantasy Man…when he arrived at your home soon.

An unknown man was coming to grant her fantasies? Unbelievable. Unreal. Back in college she and Jules, as Julie preferred to be called, often talked about their sexual fantasies and having a stranger make love to her was Monica’s favourite. She didn’t want to know the guy’s name and didn’t want to be on a date. She wanted someone strong and handsome that she’d never met to just walk in and possess her. He’d kiss and lick his way from her head to her toes. Lingering on her breasts, he’d suck her nipples until they hardened and she cried out. Moving on to tongue-fuck her naval and start her hot juices flowing, he’d lick his way slowly to her vagina where he’d dip and suck until she’d think she was going crazy. She’d bury her hands in his hair and beg him to ‘take her’ until he sent her hurtling over the edge. In mad ecstasy she’d cling to him as he made her come. Then he’d slide his hard cock into her slippery passage and pinning her arms over her head he’d shove deep inside her. As he ravaged her body by shooting his hot semen into her welcoming pussy he’d mark her as his own. Afterward she’d lie there feeling completely sated and yet waiting for this stranger to take her again.

Leave it to her former college roomie to actually find someone who did that kind of thing.

Startled by the sudden tingling between her legs, Monica savoured the feeling of anticipation and desire that she’d been without for too long. Her breath quickened, her pulse raced and she grew hot and moist with wanting. Where had all her fantasies gone and why hadn’t they materialised?

In the years since they’d graduated life hadn’t offered up any real excitement, and though she still sometimes fantasised about hot, steamy, no-holds-barred sex, none she’d had shot off the charts. Maybe that was why she was still single. She’d like to find love. The kind that lasted. But she wanted the sex to be mind-blowing, toe-curling ecstasy.

Obviously no company could commercialise love. So Fantasies Unlimited offered something tangible like sex play. She glanced toward the door, her heart thumping inside her chest like a wild bird trying to break out. Sex play with a stranger? She fanned herself again. Soon? How soon? Surely not today. She was wearing her favourite hanging-out clothes—jeans and a grey souvenir sweatshirt with a pink flamingo she bought on last year’s vacation to Florida with Jules.

In her fantasies Monica wore something seductive which the stranger soon ripped off and left her standing there in… Monica gasped. Her bra and bikinis didn’t match. She was fanatic about matching undies but Saturday was laundry day and after washing her flowered, polka dot and pastel panties on the delicate cycle, she’d hung them in the bathroom to dry, unwilling to trust such expensive, lacy items to an electric dryer.

Steadying her shaking hands and crossing her fingers she’d be forewarned when to expect him, Monica looked back at the card and skimming the print saw that this guy Nick—the name was filled in on the blank—would do anything you wanted except have sex if you were married. She was safe there. Not even a boyfriend. Sex with a stranger? She grew wetter just thinking about a strange man lying next to her. His hard body touching her supple one. His breath coming fast as he explored her curves and crevices. Her nipples pebbling at his touch and her pussy dripping as she longed for the hardness of his cock. And then…raw sex, panting like wild animals as he rammed his rod inside her throbbing hole. Shuddering as if she’d just experienced her fantasy, Monica shook her head to clear it. She was hoping for too much.

A sticky note in Jules’ flowing handwriting was attached to the back of the card and Monica pulled it loose. “Just what you’ve always wanted! And the sky’s the limit. Choose and enjoy anything and everything offered. I got to pick your Fantasy Man from pictures in a brochure and I think you’ll love him. I just hope I know you as well as I think I do. Merry Christmas. Love and Hugs, Jules.”

Monica, clutching her chest, read the main headings first…

Appealing Appeteasers

Erotica Entrees

Main Intercourses

Sweet Finishes.

Intercourses? Thirty degrees in Ohio with snow on the ground and more predicted—and Monica kept the thermostat low—but she was sweating inside her cosy home. Wow! They evidently did go that far.

She looked at the offerings under Appeteasers…

Backrubs with warm scented oils

Champagne accompanied bubble baths

Pedicures plus foot and leg massage

She loved champagne and bubble baths and it sounded luxurious.

Her eyes jumped to Entrees.

‘Massages from head to toe’ was listed first and you could choose from ones that relaxed or energised. Relaxation was what she needed right now. The idea of a man she’d never met massaging her entire body was…thrilling and a bit scary. Wouldn’t that turn the guy on, and then what? Jump to the main course? A man that gave pedicures might be gay but if he turned her on, what then? Did she jump him?

Corporate mogul, Tom Powers, decides to play The Prince and the Pauper for two weeks before Christmas.

He exchanges places with Brian Bentley, who looks just like him, because he wants a chance to be an ordinary guy.

But while living Brian’s life and doing his job, he meets Jordan Scott, and the explosive sex they share has him forgetting who he really is. Will she forgive him when she finds out he’s the owner of the company and not the line supervisor she falls in love with?

Excerpt!

Tom came across the information quite by accident in a company newsletter and sat there staring at the picture that, if not for the different name, would have been like staring in the mirror. Brian Bentley, line foreman, had recently gotten a safety award.

Funny how you could own a business and not know anything about the people who worked there. Well, that wasn’t really the case since Tom owned a dozen companies across the country and until last week, Blackstone Tool & Die hadn’t been in his portfolio. There was no reason he should know Brian.

He turned to look out the window of his suite, but the Pittsburgh night held no appeal. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, rubbing his hands across his face. God, he was tired. Normally he ran his empire from corporate offices in New York. If Blackstone hadn’t been so closely tied to one of his other companies he wouldn’t have stepped in when he found out it was in financial trouble. It needed more than an infusion of cash, but Tom would have to spend time determining exactly what, so he planned on staying in Pittsburgh through December.

He had never really wanted the responsibility of keeping so many different companies operating in turbulent economic times, but it had gotten dumped in his lap when his father had unexpectedly died. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it; in fact he was very good at it. And now he couldn’t seem to shirk the growing responsibilities.

He watched it start to snow. Thousands, no, billions of huge flakes dropped past his window to become part of a landscape that all blended together. Wouldn’t it be great to just be one of the masses? Like a snowflake that wasn’t any different from the next one, unless you put it under a microscope. To be just one of the boys, drinking a beer on Friday night with friends or taking a girlfriend to a movie.

That made him think of Sarah, his current fling. He wouldn’t call her a girlfriend by any stretch of the imagination. He cringed, recalling her screeching voice when he called to tell her he wouldn’t be in town for all the holiday parties she loved to attend. He wouldn’t even continue to see her except she was a great—no, make that a super fuck. Their sex marathons were well worth the extravagant charges to his credit cards.

He should call and see if she wanted to come to Pittsburgh. His cock swelled just thinking about what she could do with her mouth. He snorted. Sex or not, there was no way Sarah would leave New York City for Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, especially this time of year. And did he really want her here? Her tantrums had begun to wear. Perhaps this trip to check out Blackstone Tool & Die had been prophetic after all.

He stood and watched one snowflake all the way to the ground where it immediately got lost in the accumulating whiteness. He glanced over at the newsletter; Brian Bentley’s picture staring back at him as a plan formed. A totally irrational, utterly insane plan.